


A werewolf and his vessel

by bluebells



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Humour, M/M, Soulmates, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, angel!Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're my, like, vessel."</p><p>Isaac blinks. Did he hear that right? "Like a - " Actually, he doesn't even have an analogy for that.</p><p>Scott helpfully jumps in on cue. "Like, my anchor. Except... for my angel parts."</p><p>Wherein Scott is a hybrid whose latent genes didn't kick in until his 18th birthday. Isaac is bemused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A werewolf and his vessel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyknightanka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightanka/gifts).



> Happy birthday to one of my favourite people - a mash-up of tropes, I hope you enjoy it! Happy to report this is 80% less sad than the completely different story I was originally going to give you!

"I don't want you getting hurt," Scott had murmured to Isaac that night in the shadow of the pillar, dark eyes narrowed with soft concern like he couldn't understand why he had to explain something so obvious.

Isaac remembers how embarassed he'd been that such a simple statement could floor him, stunned into silence, as Scott left to deal with the lurking threat of Jackson.

Isaac had always suspected Scott was well-intended, sort of soft and simple like his words, but it was part of his charm. Scott didn't need synonymous poetry and big demonstrations to get his point across, he did more with less, he shot straight from the sleeve. Isaac later guessed it was because Scott was genuinely that good a person.

When Scott turns eighteen, Isaac learns there's a little more to Scott's nature than meets the eye - or any other supernatural sense at their mutual disposal. It's more than nurturing a heart of gold that wants his friends safe and his family guarded. It's more than straddling the divide of humans and werewolves as the alpha of his own human pack and Derek's off-again-on-again lieutenant.

"What - what did you say?" Isaac stares when Scott tells him. 

Scott's shoulders flinch, and in the shadowy reflection of the bedroom mirror, he winces, forces himself to turn and meet Isaac's eyes. He grimaces, sheepish and pained. "Dude, I don't want to say it again."

Isaac strains something looking Scott over from head to toe. Why the hell was Scott telling _him_ this? Why him of all their friends, when he could have pulled Stiles aside, or even Alli - 

Isaac blinks once, slow and deliberately, as though he can clear the stupor like rain from his eyes, but Scott is still standing in front of him, bare-chested (as usual, was that a contagious alpha thing?) and expression so painfully earnest with hope that Isaac can't help but remind himself how hopelessly Scott failed at playing jokes with a straight face.

Scott actually believes what he's saying.

Isaac shakes his head. "What do you _mean_ you're an _angel_?" And Scott's face twists again when Isaac says it, his heartbeat spikes, and Isaac can smell the flush of heated embarassment that raises Scott's temperature. "I mean - you mean - "

"We don't have wings," Scott mutters from the corner of his mouth. "We can't fly. If you were gonna ask. I don't - I mean, as far as magic abilities go, I'm pretty short-changed except for how much I can't help caring about people."

Isaac can't stop staring and his gaze flickers to the top of Scott's stupidly tall hair before he can stop himself. 

Scott's fingers tangle self-consciously in his gelled fringe. "No, I don't have a halo!"

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Do I look like I have a halo?"

"Maybe you just don't know how to turn it on?"

"Isaac," Scott groans, squirming miserably under Isaac's attention, like this conversation is killing him. His arms cross over his chest, and it's the first time that Isaac can remember Scott behaving self-consciously about his body. "Come on, dude. Please."

Isaac tries not to stare. He succeeds at tilting his head towards Scott's bed and their forgotten homework, but his gaze slides back to Scott's pout against his will.

"You really believe this, don't you?" Isaac asks softly.

Scott sighs, shoulders sagging. "I know it's a lot on top of the werewolf thing, but Mom told me that - if I had the gene - it would kick in around now, and I'd kinda hoped it wouldn't because, well, I've already got the werewolf thing and...."

"Does Stiles know?"

Scott nods hesitantly, as if sharing that small admission is as bad as if he admitted to still believing in Santa Claus, leprechauns and the benevolent patronage of tooth fairies. Isaac studies the tension in Scott's expression and finally understands how much this is really bothering him if he can't even admit aloud that his best friend - of all people - knows.

Something occurs to Isaac. "Is it... from your Dad?"

The curl of Scott's mouth twists into a thinner line of anger. "Yeah."

It loosens something in Isaac's chest, something that makes him want to take Scott's shoulders under his hands and tell him how much he understands everything beneath that look.

A cricket chirps like an exciteable timekeeper on the open windowsill, but the silence doesn't last. It's been a long time since the stretch of quiet has felt awkard between them. Isaac swallows, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. There's no way Scott hasn't scented his anxiety; he has no idea what Scott wants him to say.

"So. Angel."

Scott's face is so animated tonight. It crumbles into the contrition of an apology and Isaac wants to dig his claws into his thigh for putting that look on his face. If Scott didn't want him to say anything about it, why did he share it with Isaac? 

Wait, Scott's talking. What?

" - Just thought it would be Allison, I never thought it could be anyone else, 'cause, I mean, I still love her, but then the _sight_ kicked in like Mom said it could and all I could think about, all I've dreamed, all I see - all the time since it happened - I mean, it - it's you. It's you. Isn't that so weird?"

And Scott's shaking his head, expression softened with his bemusement, but Isaac has definitely missed something. It was obviously something pretty significant. He should have been paying closer attention, because the parts he caught sounded a lot like... well, like....

God, his heart's trying to kick its way out of his chest

Isaac is so confused. "What?"

Scott gestures vehemently at Isaac's chest. "It's you, man!"

Isaac shakes his head again. He really wishes Scott was a bit more explicit like Stiles in these situations. "What's me?"

It's scary, watching Scott have to take a deep breath like that, like he needs to brace himself and Isaac for the bombshell with its barbs and debris. "You're my, like, vessel."

Isaac blinks. Did he hear that right? "Like a - " Actually, he doesn't even have an analogy for that.

Scott helpfully jumps in on cue. "Like, my anchor. Except... for my angel parts."

Isaac can't help the snort of laughter, or the smirk that tugs at his mouth when Scott vagues out for that split second processing the words that just tripped past his lips. 

"What kind of parts are you hoping to anchor in me, McCall? Because you should at least buy me dinner."

Scott flushes, mouth twisting, and Isaac is really, really learning to enjoy the endearing glow of embarassment in his cheeks; the sharper curl of it in his scent that smells weirdly similar to arousal. It's a possessive wrench in the gut knowing Isaac caused it. 

"It's not like that," Scott protests loudly, glancing to the open door and storming over once he realises it's open. He still lowers his voice for good measure once it's locked at his back. "Well. Okay, it is."

Wait a minute.

"... But, what about Allison?"

The sigh leaves Scott like an angry scoff of resignation. "I dunno, dude. Okay, I do, but then there's you, and I can't - oh man, you gotta know you could always say 'no'. Even though it's super rare that we actually find one of our vessels, you've always got a choice. I didn't when Peter bit me, and I'd never want anything this big being taken out of your hands, because it's just as... big, as - as permanent and -"

Even without a complete understanding of what Scott's failing to articulate, Isaac is not proud of the way his mouth waters at the thought of 'Scott' and 'permanent' in the same realm of possibility. 

Because Scott is warm and solid and funny, and he makes Isaac feel grounded. Useful and wanted. More than important, he was the first person in a long time who told Isaac that he was worth protecting. It made Isaac want to keep him safe in turn, even from the things Isaac couldn't understand.

He swallows thickly, finding his throat dry. "You - you said 'one of your vessels'?"

Scott nods, shrugging from his slouch against the door. Isaac wrings his hands in his pockets, palms sweating. "I guess you could say there's always more than one option. My mom - she was one of my Dad's potentials, but then he left her and you've gotta know that I would never, never, do that to you - but if you, you know, didn't want to, it wouldn't be the end of the world. It's not your responsibility. The odds are good I have another vessel or four." Scott smiles weakly, but he tries so hard to make it genuine for Isaac, it makes Isaac grit his teeth that Scott should ever have to _try_ for him. "There's seven billion people out there, right?"

Isaac entertains the thought of leaving Scott to get angel married to someone else, before Isaac and Stiles had even helped him figure out how to turn his halo on (and yes, there was no way Isaac is letting Stiles sit this one out, even if Scott was right and Isaac was his apparent fiance).

Isaac's vision bleeds to a hazy shade of red-amber-bronze.

"No, that's not happening," he murmurs, the growl rumbling in his throat as the words slide his tongue against his fangs, and Scott blinks up at him, expression splitting into a huge smile when Isaac's claws hover at the sharp angle of his jaw. 

When did Isaac cross the room?

"I feel like I need to explain this a lot better than I have, but...." Scott is apologising, leaning into the brace of Isaac's arm, and his hand is like a brand on Isaac's thigh. Isaac doesn't have Scott's sense of preservation - he doesn't know how to be embarassed when Scott draws him down into a tight hug that presses every part of them together warmly. Isaac whimpers, wrapping his arms around Scott's solid frame. Oh god, hugs. Hugs are great.

Scott's hair smells like that tea tree gell he uses, but he's moving before Isaac can really breathe him in. Isaac's stomach tightens when Scott mouths the skin at his temple in a sort of dry kiss of heat and breath, and then Scott is looking up into his face, too close to hide, and Isaac gasps.

As a beta, Scott's eyes were gold. Now, his irises glow a shifting, brilliant blue-green like the hues of a glacial lake in the mid-morning sun, but - 

"Wow," Isaac breathes, touching Scott's face before he even thinks about it. "Can you be two things at once? Are you still....?"

Scott raises the claws of his hand in answer and Isaac stares, considering for a moment, before he threads their fingers together. He relishes the way the air pushes from Scott's lungs like a groan, his eyes almost falling shut as he sags against the door, tightly gripping Isaac's hand back.

Wow. And that was only from holding hands? This was going to be awesome.

"You can still say 'no'," Scott offers, but it's hoarse and thrilling, and Isaac's never felt so powerful. He's as good as drunk.

Isaac grins, leaning in. "Nah."

Scott surges up to kiss him, hands sinking through Isaac's thick curls, wrapping around his waist. Isaac laments how he never completely appreciated Scott's agility before because the way he pushes himself up against Isaac's body is a thing of beauty and grace and hungry, delicious things that make Isaac giddy with the heat at every burning line of friction that keeps him grinning with the heady knowedge of _mine, mine, mine_ and he's never been less sorry for anything in his life.

"Dude, you're laughing," Scott pulls back, but he's snickering, too, eyes bright, and breathless. 

He's fucking beatiful.

"You're an angel," Isaac says, then bursts out laughing, sagging against Scott's shoulder helplessly.

Scott punches him in the arm. "Shut up! You just kissed me! You can't mind that much. I'm not growing a halo."

"Can you imagine what you'd look like with wings _and_ claws?"

"I hate you."

"I'd keep you anyway," Isaac says, grinning at the way Scott pauses, expression cautiously hopeful.

"So... you will?"

Isaac's fingers curl and tap thoughtfully at Scott's shoulder. He never unwrapped himself from Scott's embrace. "Only if... you know, you're sure. I don't really know what I'm doing here."

Arms link behind Isaac's back. "Me neither. But I promise I won't leave you in the dark."

Isaac's hums under his breath, smiling when Scott's hand strokes up between his shoulderblades to settle the shiver before it even starts. Those words mean more than Scott probably realises or remembers. 

"Hmm. What'd happen if an angel doesn't have a vessel?" 

The light in Scott's eyes flares with the huff of his weak laugh. The hair on Isaac's arms stands on end and, for a long moment, his understanding seems to slow down, curdling like sound through water, and every muscle in his body tenses between fight or flight. 

"I don't know," Scott admits guiltily. He blinks, leaning forward to thumb the sweat beading on Isaac's upper lip, and the spell breaks like the rush of an exhale. His hands curl around Isaac's arms. Isaac's shaking. "Are - you okay? Did I... god, I'm sorry, I still don't - I'm sorry. I'll figure this out. I'll learn."

And Isaac finds himself nodding slowly. He doesn't want to think about what would happen to Scott without a vessel. He already knew what he would say, he's known since Scott stared at him like he was the Second Coming at the eleventh hour, before Gerard executed his end game all those years ago and tried to end Isaac with a sword. He's surprised in himself that sampling Scott's strange power hasn't changed that.

It feels scary, but not like a mistake. "Okay."

"Yeah?" Scott's smile is so blinding it's hard to accept it can all be for Isaac.

Isaac nods again. He can work on acceptance. He wants to, for himself, for this. For Scott and them. 

They can figure it out in the morning, but for now - God, they could be a _them_. Isaac feels weak.

"Yeah," Isaac breathes, and Scott's arms tighten around him with gratitude, breathes it back into him.


End file.
